2 posts
  • jeitendra_sharma 103w

    I am "...."

    I am Socrates
    walking dead
    I am Kafka
    and his metamorphosis
    I am Chris McCandless
    heading towards Alaska
    eating blueberries
    I am will, cleaning floors
    learning infinities
    I am Boltzmann, talking with entropies
    I am Copernicus, a rebel
    I am Zarathustra, I preach 'Superman'
    I am Buddha, I seek pure knowledge
    I am Tartini, I talk with the devil
    and I am Bhagat Singh, I see the permanent struggle
    I am Trotsky, a lone survivor
    I am Lenin, I want a revolution
    I am Marx, I want alternatives
    I am Che, I want emancipation
    I am Birsa Munda, I will rebel
    I am tribal, I will protect the forest
    I am the stars, burning out
    I am the sky, blue
    I am Grigori Perelman, I want isolation
    I am Chenab, I witnessed the love
    I am verse of Ghalib, beautiful
    I am Van Gogh, I see starry nights
    I want freedom, the liberty, I am Franch revolution
    I am an Idea, I am V
    Your bullets can't kill me,


  • tuli_04 129w

    Does Ganga Know How Her Cousins Behave?

    The vestiges of snow trickle into floods.
    Drip by drip, the drops roll without stop.
    Jhelum, Ravi, Chenab are dry?
    Overflowing they are with unsaid, mum, cellotaped waves.
    Jhelum, Ravi, Chenab are full to the brim, maybe.
    The snow trickles fast, slow in magnanimity;
    The vestiges are burning fast.
    The rivers will perhaps, rinse the burns.
    They may cleanse or gallop through the recitals.
    But, Who knows, how Jhelum, Ravi, Chenab look?
    How they sing, shout and scream?
    If they are dry, flooded or clinging to the snow vestige?
    Cellotaped waves, moaning swishes,
    Will Ganga know how her cousins behave?